The Old Fisherman's rough, large hands were covered in thick calluses from fishing nets and years of labor, but at this moment, they landed gently on Deino's head.
His cloudy eyes were filled with simple, honest kindness.
"Hey, little guy, you're quite capable."
"To think you handled so many Wingull all by yourself."
Ariel's brow twitched, and he almost instinctively opened his mouth to stop him.
He could clearly feel the muscles in Deino's neck tighten instantly under his palm—a wild instinct ready to launch an attack at any moment.
After all, even Ariel had been bitten by Deino. If it weren't for Deino's young age and low level, its ferocity would certainly be no less than that of the Gyarados in Ariel's possession!
This little thing's bite could snap an oar without effort, let alone a human wrist.
Fortunately, the Old Fisherman's other hand was faster.
As if performing a magic trick, he pulled a still-flopping Magikarp out of the fish basket beside him. The fish was a good half-meter long, its orange scales shimmering in the sunlight, looking exceptionally plump.
"Here, a reward for you."
The Magikarp was delivered precisely to Deino's mouth.
The little guy, who had been on guard just a second ago, had its entire attention stolen by the aroma of food the next.
It opened its mouth and swallowed the still-struggling Magikarp in one gulp. The sound of bones crunching echoed from its throat, making one's teeth ache just hearing it.
Seeing Deino squinting its eyes and chewing with a look of pure enjoyment, Ariel's racing heart finally settled, and he shook his head with a slight, amused smile.
Truly a foodie.
The Pokémon world was like this; the disparity in perception could be mind-bogglingly vast.
These fishermen, who spent their days with the sea, knew Sharpedo and Gyarados, but they had no idea that this "ugly-cute" little monster before them was a Pseudo-Legendary hatchling that could drive countless Trainers mad with desire.
In their eyes, this little thing was probably no different from a particularly peculiar-looking Poochyena.
Ignorance, sometimes, is a kind of bliss.
But in the crowd, there is always someone who isn't quite so "ignorant."
A gaze, like a maggot on a bone, stuck itself onto the feeding Deino.
That gaze was initially one of surprise and doubt, then wild joy, and finally transformed into naked greed.
Ariel didn't even turn his head; based solely on that undisguised desire, he locked onto the other person's position.
On a fishing boat at the edge, a lean man with high cheekbones was staring intently. His triangular eyes narrowed into slits, the light within them as if he had seen a mountain of gold.
An ordinary man is innocent, but possessing a treasure makes him guilty.
Ariel understood this logic better than anyone. Had it been when he first transmigrated, he might have only been able to choose to take Deino and leave immediately to avoid trouble.
But now...
He had the strength!
Ariel's gaze turned cold.
He didn't like trouble, but he hated even more being watched like a wolf eyeing its prey.
Without a word, he flicked his wrist, and a red-and-white Poké Ball appeared in his palm.
"Come out, Malamar."
Accompanied by a flash of red light, a massive Malamar appeared out of thin air over the sea. On its dark body, glowing spots shone like deep-sea stars. Its eight tentacles swayed gently in the wind, and an invisible sense of pressure instantly enveloped this small area.
The surrounding fishermen let out a chorus of exclamations, clearly intimidated by this powerful Pokémon they had never seen before.
"What... what kind of Pokémon is that?"
"Such an overwhelming pressure..."
Ariel ignored the surrounding chatter. His gaze pierced through the crowd and locked with the Triangle-eyed man.
He didn't even open his mouth to give an order; it was just a meeting of eyes.
Malamar understood perfectly.
A ball of deep darkness lit up at the tip of one of its tentacles, and a ring of distorted dark light instantly took shape. The air seemed to grow heavy because of it.
Hum—
A low hum of energy.
That Dark Pulse shot out at a speed difficult for the naked eye to track, aimed straight at the man!
The man's pupils constricted suddenly. He wanted to dodge, but his body was pinned in place by fear, completely refusing to obey.
The dark ring of light did not hit him.
It flew past, grazing the man's scalp. The gust of wind even made his sparse hair stand on end.
The man could clearly feel the bone-chilling cold and the scent of death as that energy brushed past.
The ring's momentum didn't slow as it precisely struck a Wingull circling in the air a hundred meters behind the man.
There was no explosion, no loud bang.
That Wingull didn't even have time to let out a cry of sorrow. Its body stiffened in mid-air, and it fell straight into the sea like a kite with a broken string, failing to even kick up a splash.
Dead silence.
A deathly silence fell over the fishing boat.
Everyone was terrified by this clean, decisive strike that displayed absolute control.
The Triangle-eyed man felt his legs go weak and slumped to the deck, a foul stench of urine spreading from his crotch.
His face was deathly pale, and he gasped for air as if he had just been fished out of the water.
Ariel expressionlessly recalled Malamar. With a flash of red light, the Pokémon that brought such immense pressure vanished.
He led Deino, who was still savoring the taste of the Magikarp, and turned to leave.
This was a warning.
A crystal-clear warning.
However, just after Ariel turned around, he felt the change in the gaze behind him.
After the fear receded, what rose up was an even more deep-seated malice.
That gaze was like a poisoned hook, firmly pinned to his back.
Ariel's pace didn't falter for a second, but the corners of his mouth curled up silently.
Oh?
Refusing to repent, are we?
That's fine; it suits me just right.
...
At daybreak, the morning light was faint, gilding the sea's surface with a hazy layer of gold.
The roar of the fishing boat's old engine gradually weakened, eventually becoming a low hum as it slowly pulled into the slightly aged small port of Lilycove City.
The pier was already bustling with noise.
The salty, fishy sea breeze mixed with the scent of the catch and a faint smell of diesel hit him—the unique scent of a port in the morning.
The fishermen, shirtless with skin tanned to a bronze hue by the sea breeze and sun, were shouting as they used their thick arms to move crates of still-flopping seafood from the boats to the carts on the shore. Ice and fish scales collided with a crisp, clattering sound.
"Little brother, thank you."
The Old Fisherman's dark face was creased with a simple smile. As he briskly tidied the fishing nets, he said to Ariel:
"Lilycove City is just ahead. The city is big, so don't get lost. If you're looking for food, don't go to those flashy-looking big restaurants; they're all there to trick outsiders. Walk along this road, and when you see a small shop with a Gray Spiny Fish sign, go in. That's where we sailors go; the seafood is authentic, and the portions are generous."
Ariel nodded and committed the address to memory.
Although he felt this information might not be very useful, it was better than nothing.
He could sense the sincerity in the words. This kind of kindness from a stranger, untainted by any self-interest, was rare on a journey.
"Thanks, old man."
"Don't mention it."
The Old Fisherman waved his hand and left.
Ariel looked back. Not far away, the Triangle-eyed man was moving cargo with the others.
His movements were somewhat stiff, and his gaze drifted this way from time to time, a mix of malice and greed that he didn't even try to hide.
Fear is temporary. When the threat of death passes and one remains unharmed, the relief of surviving is quickly replaced by humiliation and deeper malice.
Clearly, the other party had not taken the previous warning to heart.
Ariel said nothing more, simply turning to walk down the swaying gangplank.
Ariel's pace was steady. Walking through the bustling crowd, his figure soon merged into the background of the pier.
He didn't look back.
Nor did he need to.
Just as he had walked about a hundred meters and turned a corner piled with cargo crates, his footsteps paused for a fleeting moment.